


The Journey to Redemption

by treacletarts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Canon, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23575441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treacletarts/pseuds/treacletarts
Summary: The redemption arc that Draco Malfoy deserves.[Follows canon events that occur in the series, excluding Nineteen Years Later]Disclaimer:I don’t own any of the characters, settings or story in Harry Potter. All rights and ownership of the creation of Harry Potter go to J.K Rowling. This is simply for entertainment purposes.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	1. Prologue

“The wand’s more trouble than it’s worth,” said Harry, “And quite honestly, I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

...

It was over. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked around the Hogwarts grounds, all three of them bruised, battered and extremely wary. Rubble cascaded around every inch of the ground before them. Harry glanced at the two faces of his best friends, the ones that had stood by him and fought with him even when the prospect of success seemed bleak. He saw ugly bruises and cuts all over their faces. But somehow, this seemed to reassure him more; that even how horrific the past had been, they had gotten through it. Together.

They rounded a corner. Draco Malfoy stood there, alone, gazing into the distance. The sight of him did not make Harry angry or disgusted as he had expected. Instead, it made him feel something he could not quite describe just yet. Ron and Hermione quickly came to a halt and began turning around. Harry, however, stood there frozen. Ron noticed.

  
“Harry?” Ron said quietly, a hint of confusion edging into his voice. This made Draco turn around suddenly. He had a look of pure pain (and perhaps regret?) on his face, as he regarded the trio.  
“Go find everyone else,” Harry said, “I’ll be there soon.”

  
Ron and Hermione gave him perplexed looks, but chose not to question him and began returning to the castle, not before giving Harry tired, but warm smiles. Malfoy eyed Harry carefully as he moved to stand by him. He looked just as worn out as the rest of them, his skin pale and dusty, his grey eyes looking forlorn. They were now standing by the edge of the Hogwarts bridge. Miraculously, it had not been blown up during the battle.

After a few moments of silence, Malfoy murmured:  
“I suppose I should thank you for... that thing that happened. You know, with the fire. So thanks, I guess.”  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
“Typical Malfoy, can’t even say thank you without being vaguely snarky,” Harry said, though there was no bitterness in his tone; he sounded almost playful. The corner of Malfoy’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly. Another beat of silence. Harry swallowed, then continued:  
“Your mother saved me, you know. We were in the Forbidden Forest and she was sent to check if I was dead. She lied. She lied to Voldemort’s face, saying that I was dead, just so she could get back to you.”

Malfoy’s face was still and unreadable as he drank this information in.  
“Well, we’re even then,” he said dismissively. He caught the look of disdain on Harry’s face and quickly added: “Almost even.”

They stood there in comfortable silence, both gaining an ounce of new found respect for each other. Eventually, Harry extended a hand towards his (former) arch nemesis.  
“So long, Malfoy.”  
Malfoy accepted the handshake. Their gazes lingered on each other’s faces for a fraction of a moment. They hastily let go, and Harry left to go find the others. This encounter changed their perception of each other ever since. Because, how different were they really? Two flawed boys, both just looking for love and acceptance in this cruel world.

...

Harry returned to the castle. Everywhere he looked he saw relieved, but mourning people. He spotted Ron, Hermione and the Weasley family almost immediately. They were all huddled closely together, many of them tear stricken. Harry felt his own eyes well up involuntarily. He ran towards them, hugging Ron and Hermione first, then the rest of the Weasleys. All of them were now sobbing silently, tears streaming down their ashy faces. They crowded together, forming a tight knit circle. They all stood like that for a while, each one of them grieving and understanding each other’s pain. Even amidst all that was going on, you could almost feel their hearts breaking. But, as they all knew, there would always be a sliver of hope. They could never be irreparably broken.


	2. Unexpected Letters

**A few weeks later**

Harry woke up with a start. He had been having nightmares about the battle again. He knew this would be happening quite a bit now, as the battle had only been recent. However, he was beyond grateful that his scar did not burn as it used to.  
He glanced over at the glowing alarm clock by his bedside. 4:30am. Sighing, he sat up; he knew there was no chance of him falling back asleep. He felt strangely alone, though Ron was snoring soundly in the bed next to him.

Both Harry and Hermione had been staying at the Weasley’s house ever since the battle, which Harry was tremendously grateful for. He didn’t know what he would have done without Ron and Hermione these past few weeks. Harry quietly got out of bed, trying not to disturb Ron. He tiptoed to his trunk in the corner of his room to grab a Quidditch book. He turned back around, only to find Ron sitting up, staring at him with a dazed expression on his face. Harry jumped, startled. He then scowled.

“Jesus, Ron! You scared me!” Harry exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down as much as possible in order to not wake the entire house.  
Ron tried to keep a straight face, then gave up and burst into laughter.  
“Bloody hell mate, you should’ve seen your face!” he choked out, making an exaggerated expression, intended to replicate Harry’s.  
Harry walked towards his bed, grabbed his pillow and threw it at Ron’s head in retaliation.

“Sod off, Ron!”

“Ow, that hurt! Not cool, Harry!” Ron said, in mock pain.

They were both laughing now, glad to have something to be happy about.  
Ron yawned, then threw the pillow back to Harry.  
“Well, seeing as it’s not even 5:00am yet, I’m going back to bed,” he said. Before Harry could even reply, Ron fell back asleep, looking very cosy under his thick blanket. Harry climbed into bed, turned on the lamp and began to scour the Quidditch book, feeling quite alone yet again.

...

Harry woke to the sounds of birds chirping lightly outside the window. The Quidditch book lay on his face and his glasses were askew, digging into his nose. Brushing the book off and adjusting his glasses, he turned around to find that Ron’s bed was empty. Harry quickly got dressed, prepared for the morning and headed down for breakfast.

The Weasley family, except for Mr Weasley, who was at work, and Hermione were at the table, mumbling a few words to each other once in a while. This was quite the usual these days; no one had really come to terms with the loss yet. The lack of Fred and George’s humorous banter was rather disconcerting still. In fact, George rarely said anything anymore. He spent all his time locked up in his room, alone.

Harry made his way to the table, grabbing a piece of toast and sitting himself in the space between Ron and Hermione.

They ate, making light, but subdued conversation. Suddenly, a a large brown owl landed on the windowsill. Mrs Weasley opened the window to let it in. She grabbed the 4 letters that the owl carried. They all caught a glimpse of the Hogwarts crest. Mrs Weasley passed out the letters to Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. They all knew that Ginny’s would entail her Hogwarts letter for her final year, but were unsure what Harry, Ron and Hermione’s would be about.  
Harry opened his:  
 _  
Dear Mr Potter,_  
 _In light of recent events, we have decided to give students of 7th year an opportunity to return to the school for one final year. We hope that you may take this offer as it may be crucial for your studies in the future. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment._  
 _Terms begins as usual from 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July._  
 _Yours sincerely,_  
 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Headmistress_

Harry stared at his letter for a few moments before turning around and lifting his eyes to meet Hermione’s. Ron finished reading a few seconds after Harry and all three of them looked at each other with uncertainty.  
“Well?’ Mrs Weasley said, “What is it?”  
All of three of them started babbling at once, before Harry and Hermione stopped to let Ron speak. Mrs Weasley’s eyes widened as she heard the news.  
“I suppose it is not a terrible idea,” she said, “It may be useful. Also, it would be nice for Ginny to have some company.”  
Ginny smiled at her mother; the smile was immediately returned.

 _Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea,_ Harry thought.  
Mrs Weasley looked at them expectantly, awaiting an answer. Both Ron and Hermione were looking at Harry.  
Harry cleared his throat then meekly said: “I would like to head back. Only if Ron and Hermione are going, of course.”  
Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.  
“That‘s settled then. We will get your books next week,” Mrs Weasley said brightly, though Harry swore that he could see her eyes brimming with tears.

Harry’s head filled with a hundred negative thoughts. However, he pushed those down. Hogwarts was where he had first felt happiness, the place where he had made so many fond memories over the years. How bad could it be?

...

Draco Malfoy held the letter in his hand. An eighth year? He hadn’t even considered it before now. Now that he thought about it, it made a lot of sense.  
He promptly wrote his response, attached it to the owl’s leg and sent it soaring into the sky.


	3. Return to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any ideas or feedback for this story (or future fics) would be much appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

Time flew by, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were back on the crimson Hogwarts express, ready for a new magical adventure (but hopefully a safe one this time). They had all made a pact to stay out of trouble and focus on their studies. Ron had groaned when Hermione brought the idea up, but eventually they all agreed to it. 

  
So, now they were here, on the train, happily chattering about what they might expect from classes, professors and other students that might be returning. They were just in the middle of laughing about Seamus’ multiple experiments gone wrong when a platinum blond boy stumbled into their compartment. The boy was none other than Draco Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyes widened in horror as he realised his mistake. 

“Oh! S-Sorry, I thought this was my compartment.”

This was particularly uncharacteristic of him— Draco Malfoy apologising? This seemed to dawn on him and he added in a lame insult about how Harry’s fame was wearing off, an insult that wasn’t even true as multiple people had come up to Harry asking for an autograph already. Not that Harry wanted all this attention.

After this, Malfoy hurriedly exited, a slight flush spreading across his cheekbones. 

“That git,” Ron said sourly, “Of course he’s returning. Just what we needed, another year with Malfoy.”

It was clear that Ron’s perception of Malfoy still hadn’t changed. Harry had told Ron and Hermione about the encounter after a few days. Despite this, they both brushed it off, saying it was common courtesy. Harry still thought it was a nice gesture.

The trio fell back into easy conversation, though Harry could not help thinking about how different Malfoy appeared. 

The train finally arrived at Hogwarts. Its magnificent turrets gleamed and the grounds were shiny and new. Harry’s face split into a wide grin. The wave of nostalgia and memories hit him. This really was home. 

Before they knew it, the sorting was complete, introductions had been made and the feast was over. Professor McGonagall was doing a fantastic job as Headmistress, as Harry knew she would. However, she still emanated that feeling of sadness that a lot of other people carried as well. 

_They really had repaired the castle and grounds very well,_ Harry thought. Hogwarts was as beautiful as before, a magnificent structure with even more beauty held inside. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione got up from the Gryffindor table and headed up to their dormitories. That night, Harry did not have a single nightmare. The only thoughts in his head were blissful, happy ones. 

…

Classes went by as usual and everything seemed to run smoothly. Harry was quite the celebrity; even the Slytherins treated him with a decent amount of respect. It was quite unnerving, but it was to be expected. There were still a few that looked as if they were biting back insults, but they were certainly the minority. Harry enjoyed most of his classes (though not the workload that was given), and even had a good Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, something he was extremely grateful for. 

It was a week in that Harry noticed that there was something _off_ about Malfoy. He didn’t show the same energy, he never seemed to hang around ‘friends’ anymore and his jabs at Harry, Ron and Hermione became increasingly infrequent. Perhaps he was just scared to say anything because he would be attacked for saying something negative about Harry, _The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One_ , and his two loyal sidekicks. 

When Harry brought this up to Ron and Hermione, they had just shrugged and said that the less Malfoy opened his mouth, the better. Harry ultimately agreed with that, so he tried to put it out of his mind.

One day, in Defence Against the Dark Arts, the class was practising quite a difficult shielding spell. Harry was succeeding at performing it— he was one of the only few who could. Even Hermione had not completely gotten the hang of it yet. Harry glanced around the room and spotted Malfoy. He looked as pale and tired as ever. His feeble attempt to conjure the spell filled Harry with unwanted pity. 

Without thinking, he walked straight up to Malfoy and asked:

“Do you want help?”

Malfoy stopped and turned to glare at Harry. 

“I don’t need your help, Potter,” he sneered, “Just because you’re the saviour of the wizarding world now doesn’t mean I require anything from you.”

Harry sighed at his own stupidity and went back to his original position. What had he expected, for Malfoy to say yes, for them to become friends? What a ridiculous thought. Yet somewhere, deep down, Harry really had expected something different from what he got. 

…

“Harry, this is the 3rd time we’ve had to listen to you talk about Malfoy,” Hermione said impatiently. She was editing a scroll for Transfiguration, even though she had already revised it four times. 

“Well, it’s not my fault he’s a prat!” Harry said hotly, “I was offering to hel—”

“Listen to Hermione, mate,” Ron cut in, “We know you hate Malfoy, we all do, but it’s not as if you expected anything different right? You were just trying to be nice, to reconcile and all that nonsense.”

“Right,” Harry said unenthusiastically. 

Harry looked around the room and met Ginny Weasley’s warm brown eyes. She was chattering away with some Gryffindors in her year, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off Harry. Harry felt that there was something he had to do. Something he should have done a long time ago. 

He strolled over to her, looking more confident than he felt.

“Hi,” Ginny said shyly, a blush slowly emerging on her face. Her red hair was flaming, her eyes were glistening.

“Hi,” Harry said awkwardly in return, “Maybe we should go somewhere private.”

Many pairs of curious eyes had already found their way to Harry and Ginny. They headed towards a less crowded part of the room.

“So—”

“I—” 

They both started talking, then laughed and stopped.

“You first,” Ginny said.

 _Ok, where do I begin?_ , Harry thought.

“So, I just want you to know that you’re amazing and I really do like you. I just don’t think I like you the same way as I used to.”

Harry scanned her face for any signs of distress or discomfort, but found none. Instead, Ginny’s face was a blank slate, completely void of emotion.

Eventually she answered: “Okay.”

Harry felt immensely guilty and added: 

“I hope we can still be friends though.”

“Yeah sure,” Ginny said, sounding indifferent, “Bye Harry.”

She walked away briskly, leaving Harry quite confused as to whether that went well or not.

Harry returned to Ron and Hermione. He would tell them about Ginny later. He said goodnight to both of them, then headed upstairs, where he lay awake for hours, unable to get the thought of Malfoy or Ginny out of his mind. 


	4. Extra Lessons

“You did what?!” Ron said in disbelief.

“I- I don’t know, I tried to be nice—”

“I’m sure Harry ended it very amicably,” Hermione said kindly.

Ron glared angrily at both Harry and Hermione and stormed off, most likely going to find Ginny.

“It’s ok Harry,” Hermione said, “He’ll come around.”

Harry wasn’t so sure.

But of course, Hermione was right. After a whole afternoon of side glances and uncomfortable conversation, Ron apologised for being dramatic, saying he was just protective of Ginny. 

“I think she’s quite upset,” Ron said, “But you know Ginny, she’s tough.”

Harry still felt awful about the whole thing, but really, there was nothing he could do. It was better than stringing her along.

Just at that very moment, Malfoy appeared, fidgeting with his emerald green tie. 

“What do you want?” Ron asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing in distaste.

Malfoy’s grey eyes flickered towards Harry.

Harry whispered to the other two: “Go ahead. I’ll meet you at the Common Room.” 

Both Ron and Hermione looked rather uneasy, but they did as Harry said. 

“What is it?” Harry said, unable to keep the distrust out of his voice. 

Malfoy seemed to lose the ability to speak for a couple of seconds, before composing himself into his usual prideful stance. He cleared his throat.

“I was wondering if you could… help me with Defence Against the Dark Arts. I’ve been having a little bit of trouble,” he said in a cool tone.

“You want help from _me_? Didn’t you refuse my help just a few days ago?” Harry said skeptically. 

“Don’t feel honoured, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, “It’s only because I couldn’t find anyone else. And I changed my mind.”

 _Clearly he didn’t have any friends then, if he was asking me for help,_ Harry thought. He knew it was probably a bad idea; Malfoy was most likely up to something. But the image of Malfoy’s sad spell attempt came flooding in his mind and Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Okay sure. I can ask Professor McGonagall for an empty classroom during our free time,” Harry said.

“Great,” Malfoy said, then promptly took off. 

“I don’t like this, Harry,” Hermione said while Ron nodded fervently. 

“It’ll be fine. I have my wand,” Harry reassured them, though he wasn’t so certain himself.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” Hermione said.

“When am I ever not careful, Hermione?” Harry said.

The trio looked at each other and chuckled. There were only a few instances where Harry _was_ careful. They said goodbye and Harry took off to find Malfoy.

Malfoy was already waiting for him in the classroom they had decided on.

“Why are you late?” He scowled.

“I got held up,” Harry replied.

“By Weasel and Mud—” 

Malfoy quickly cut himself off. “S-Sorry.”

Harry’s immediate fury slowly faded. He had caught himself. How unlike him.

“Okay, so you said you needed help with a protection spell? Here, I’ll show you.”

Harry demonstrated, with Malfoy closely watching and following. After many failed tries, Malfoy finally produced an acceptable protective spell. The look of delight on his face was contagious; Harry felt his own smile widen. Malfoy blushed furiously as he saw Harry smiling at him. A beat of silence.

“Would we… be able to do this again sometime?” Malfoy said timidly, a vast contrast to his usual snobbish self.

“Sure,” Harry said, still grinning. Malfoy gave him a small smile, then briskly headed out the door.

Ron and Hermione were very set that Malfoy was up to something, despite Harry telling them he had simply wanted help with Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“It’s just not like him,” Ron argued.

“I don’t know, maybe he’s changed!” Harry argued back, “He even caught himself saying the M word.”

At this, Ron and Hermione looked stunned, but still suspicious. 

“Just don’t be so trusting, Harry,” Hermione cautioned him.

Harry kept this at the back of his mind, but he still had the feeling that Malfoy wasn’t the same boy he had met at Madam Malkin’s all those years ago.


	5. Could You Stay?

So far it seemed that Malfoy did not have any malicious intent in asking Harry for help. It had been about a month. Even Ron had accepted that he wasn’t up to anything, though he still expressed his disapproval about the situation. 

“It’s just so odd, you know? Why would he ask you out of all people? He hates you!” 

Harry wondered why too, but he rarely saw Malfoy with other people, so perhaps that was the reason: Harry was his last resort. Besides this, the classes they had were often fun (surprisingly) and Malfoy was improving steadily (also quite surprising). Something about Malfoy’s excitement every time he performed well was quite endearing to Harry. It really was rather odd. Maybe he was coming down with something.

On another note, Harry had been trying to talk to Ginny again. He wasn’t sure how the ‘breakup’ had gone, but he missed her frivolous chatter and tenacious attitude. Just because he didn’t like her romantically anymore didn’t mean he liked her any less as a person. She was kind (except for when she was playing Quidditch), loyal, feisty and humorous, all the traits you would want in a good friend.

However, every time he tried to make eye contact with her, she would casually look away, seemingly ignoring Harry’s existence. Harry was quite confused— after all, didn’t she want to be friends too?

“Don’t be so thick, mate,” Ron said, “She obviously needs some time to process.”

“Giver her some space,” Hermione said wisely, “Breakups aren’t usually easy, Harry.”

Harry didn’t mind waiting, but he wondered how much time she would need before it went back to normal.

...

Harry arrived in the empty classroom for another lesson. This time he found Malfoy sitting in the corner of the room, facing the blank wall. He was clutching his knees to his chest, his head buried in his knees. He heard Harry close the door and jumped up, wiping his eyes. 

“You’re early,” he croaked. Harry could see the faint glisten of tears in his deep grey eyes. A wave of concern washed over him.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked tentatively, edging closer to Malfoy. He honestly didn’t know why he cared to this extent. Malfoy instinctively stepped back, bumping into the wall behind him.   
“Yes. I’m fine,” he said sharply.

“Oh. I’ll leave you alone, then,” Harry said, thinking that Malfoy didn’t want him there. Just as he was about to open the door to head out, he heard Malfoy’s small voice:

“W-wait. Could you… maybe stay?” Harry turned back around, looking slightly surprised.

“I mean— If you want, you don’t have to, I’m sure you have better things to do—"

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said gently, “I’ll stay.”

Malfoy slumped back down on the floor (even though there were chairs in the classroom), almost as if his legs couldn’t carry the weight of him. Harry joined him, though the floor was freezing cold and incredibly uncomfortable. He waited for Malfoy to say something, if he wished.

“It’s my mother,” Malfoy started, his voice cracking slightly. “Ever since my father’s arrest, she hasn’t been the same. But because I’m here, it’ll be worse. She’s all alone. I thought it would be okay but it isn’t. She hasn’t replied to my owl in weeks.” The pain on his face was unbearable; Harry had to look away. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly— and he _was_ sorry, he really was.

They stayed like that for a while.

When Ron and Hermione asked how the session had gone, as they always did, Harry replied with: “Just the usual.”

…

A few days later, Malfoy stalked up to Harry, grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into a random (empty) classroom, despite Ron and Hermione’s protests. 

“Hi?” Harry said, quite confused.

“Listen to me,” Malfoy said under his breath, “If you tell anyone about what happened the other day, you’ll regret it. Do you hear me?” His voice wavered.

“Relax, Malfoy. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. I promise.”

Malfoy’s eyes softened and he opened his mouth almost as if to say thank you, before closing it and heading off again. 

…

“Why do you seem so friendly with Malfoy now?” Ron asked when Harry exited the classroom.

“What do you mean, _friendly_?” Harry frowned; it’s not as if he and Malfoy were acting like best pals all of a sudden. 

“I don’t know, it’s just a few weeks or months ago you hated his guts, and now you’re helping him with Defence Against the Dark Arts and clearly _not_ hating him. At first I thought it was just because you were noble and like helping people, not because you actually enjoyed teaching him,” Ron said.

“Is that such a bad thing? Surely not hating him is an improvement?” Harry said defensively.

“Well, not really!” Ron spat, “Why would you want to be friends or even just casually friendly with _him_? You don’t remember all the awful things he’s done?”

Harry looked at Hermione, urging her to help him. However, she was gazing everywhere but at Harry. Harry sighed. He was on his own.

“I just think there’s no use hating him. Besides, you’re right, it’s only because I thought it was the right thing to do to help him, and also it’s good practice for myself,” Harry said. 

This was partially a lie; Harry actually enjoyed the classes, and he was starting to appreciate Malfoy’s company. He wasn’t who Harry thought he was. Not that Ron had to know this. 

Thankfully, Ron dropped the subject for now, and the trio continued discussing their Potions essay that was due the next day. 

  
  
  



	6. Friends..?

“Hey Hermione, what happened to S.P.E.W?” Harry asked, suddenly curious. She hadn’t mentioned it since the start of the school year. They were sitting by the fireplace in their common room, all three of them trying to complete essays.

“I’m working on something,” she answered, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, knowing that whenever that glint came up, she was planning something big. They would just have to wait to see what it was.

“Are you still going to help Malfoy?” Ron said disapprovingly. Harry rolled his eyes— he had asked this question at least once every single week. 

“Yes Ron, I am,” Harry said.

“Why though? What reasons are there to help a git like him? What good is it going to do? You’re not friends, are you?”

“We’ve been through this. Professor McGonagall always pushes the idea of reconciliation, don’t you think it’s wise to listen to her? She _is_ one of the smartest people we know. Now focus on your History of Magic essay,” Harry said, dodging half the questions Ron had asked. 

Ron gave a huff and began to say something, before catching a glimpse of Hermione’s stern glare and stopping, bending his head down to write.

When Ron left to find Ginny (Mrs Weasley had sent them letters), Hermione leaned over towards Harry.

“He does have a point, you know,” she said, “I don’t understand why you’re going to such lengths to help him. Reconciliation is one thing, becoming friends is another. He’s still horrible, isn’t he?”

“Not exactly,” Harry said, “I think he’s changed quite a bit. And he probably has stuff going on. Can’t you at least give him a chance?”

Hermione looked incredibly hurt. 

“Harry, you do realise this is the person that has been racially discriminatory towards me for 7 years of my life? How could you take his side over mine? Aren’t we best friends?” Hermione said irately, though she was still trying to be fair. 

“There are no sides, Hermione! And of course you’re my best friend. I’m just trying to explain that people aren’t black and white all the time. Malfoy included. I still think he’s a huge asshole, but it really looks like he’s trying, and that’s what matters right?”

Hermione’s lips pressed into a thin line; she looked uncannily similar to Professor McGonagall. 

“Fine,” Hermione said, “As long as you realise that he’s still rude and obnoxious and you’re only teaching him for unity’s sake.”

Harry agreed. It was better than arguing.

...

Malfoy was a lot more 3 dimensional than Harry originally thought. Since that day, the two had become somewhat friendly, if not friends. Pain really does bring people together. However, Harry did feel like he was betraying Ron and Hermione and he felt awful about it. He wished the situation was different. 

After two weeks or so, the topic came up again.  
“So… did you tell Weasley and Granger?” Malfoy said, fairly nonchalantly, though he looked even more pale than usual (if that was possible). Harry knew what he was talking about right away. 

“No,” Harry said simply.

“Ok, good,” Malfoy said, trying to keep the relief out of his voice.

“Speaking of Ron and Hermione, you probably should know they don’t exactly like you…” 

“Wow, who would have guessed,” Malfoy muttered.

“But I thought maybe if they got to know you, it might help. Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re a jerk, but since I’m teaching you so much, you might as well try talking to them too.” 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

“O…kay? What are you suggesting exactly?”

“Maybe you could come sit with us in the Great Hall? Once in a while?”

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall announced that while there would still be houses, students did not have to sit with their house during mealtime and could visit other houses’ common rooms, provided they had a password from a friend (or in the case of Ravenclaw, had a friend to answer a difficult question). This was an attempt to encourage inter-house unity. While a lot of students still kept within their respective houses, many embraced this new change. 

“And what makes you think I want to hang out with you lot?” Malfoy said smoothly, looking down at his chipped nails. Harry smirked.

“I mean, no offence or anything, but I just assumed you have no friends, considering I was the one you came to for help.”

“Oh, shut up, Potter,” Malfoy said, shoving Harry lightly.

“I told you already, it’s only because no one else I knew was that good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. Don’t let that go to your head.”

“Yeah, sure sure,” Harry said, grinning cheekily.

“So, what do you think?”

“Even though I think’s it’s stupid and will end in disaster, like all of your clever ideas, I’ll consider it. Maybe. But don’t get your hopes up, I don’t like you _that_ much.” He winked, his eyes twinkling. Harry felt like his heart was going to explode.

_Malfoy just winked. At him. And he thinks he liked it?_

“So, how is your mother?” Harry asked, changing the subject abruptly (heat had risen in his cheeks— it was quite embarrassing). Malfoy’s face turned sombre in an instant, making Harry immediately regret bringing it up.

But Malfoy still replied, saying: “She finally wrote back, just a few days ago. She seems alright, but I still worry.”

Harry gazed at him, his pale pointed face, those stunning deep-set grey eyes. He understood. He knew what it was like to worry about someone unconditionally, considering his whole life his friends had been in mortal peril because of him. A warm, encouraging smile spread across his face. 

…

It was at this moment that Draco Malfoy realised he was in love with Potter. Harry bloody Potter. Surely this was not going to end well. 


End file.
